


Four Lessons On The Alcione Order

by Leyenn



Category: Elenium-Tamuli - Eddings
Genre: M/M, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every order of the Church Knights has its own quirks, even to a fellow knight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Lessons On The Alcione Order

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icefalcon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icefalcon/gifts).



> Spoilerish up through The Tamuli. Written for icefalcon for Yuletide 2008.

**   
_1\. Faith_   
**

"No, no, no." Tynian shook his head firmly. "Are you _trying_ to blow your own head off? You're lucky you were just practising. If Divine Setras is having a distracted moment you could have been decorating the battlements before He realised you meant _jyerosin_ instead of _gherresha_. Pay attention to what you're saying, and pay particular attention to what you're _thinking_. It's the thinking that's really important. Styric's a precise language, my friend. Focus on the little things."

Docis, the blond young novice who had most recently danced with accidental and mispronounced death, flushed red at the intensity of Tynian's tirade. Around him, the other half-dozen pupils Tynian had someone found himself saddled with on this snow-bound winter afternoon reacted with every expression from half-concealed snickers to dark scowls. He wondered again why Darrelon had ever thought these lot could make passable Church Knights. Docis at least was a wonder with the lance, for all that he seemed incapable of more than making light with his spells without risking some kind of unpleasantness: some of the others were much, much worse. He shuddered at the thought of going into a charge with Kerrain, who sat a horse like a lump of lead and pronounced Styric like he'd swallowed one, but at least he tried. The permanently-scowling Donis had dark hair where his brother was fair, and a dark disposition to match. He seemed constitutionally incapable of grasping even the need for learning 'that heathen tongue', as he'd been calling it before Tynian had made clear that he found the phrase completely unacceptable, and he put as little effort into his sword work as his spellcasting. Tynian was one step from simply giving up on him and was almost certain Darrelon already had.

He concealed a sigh and pointed back at the steel target shields hanging at the other end of the small practice court. "Start again. I want to see all of those shields white-hot, and no missing limbs by the time you're done." Thinking for a moment, he framed a quick _Please be lenient, Divine One,_ in Styric and hoped Setras would catch it. He was _fairly_ sure the Styric God wouldn't really grant someone's wish to have his own head rise to forge-like temperatures, but one could never be entirely sure.

"Interesting bunch," Ulath said laconically from the fence. He was dressed in his usual chain mail, although in deference to the informality of his visit he'd abandoned his Ogre-horn helm for a less arresting Deiran helmet.

"They're lumps." Tynian made a face. "I'm not sure which of them are worse, the ones who're never going to be fluent no matter how hard they try, or the ones who just don't try at all."

"I can think of better ways to spend an afternoon," Ulath agreed. "The question is, why aren't we?"

"A favour to my Preceptor," Tynian said darkly.

"What did you do?"

"_Me?_"

Ulath raised an eyebrow.

Tynian sighed. "I made a remark at the supper table about a certain lady's attributes."

"Is that all?"

"It was enough. The lady in question happened to be a particularly fond cousin of our beloved Preceptor."

Ulath chuckled. "That was sloppy, my friend."

"I know." He winced as Docis narrowly avoided knotting his own tongue around a lengthy Styric phrase. "I don't think even Sephrenia could have taught that boy," he said. "Do you think Setras is as susceptible to kisses as his sister?"

"You'd owe him a lot of kisses for that lot," Ulath pointed out. Tynian laughed.

"On second thought, I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Aphrael is bad enough." A thought came to him. "I wonder how she gets around us addressing our spells to the other Younger Gods."

"I think she's probably worked something out," Ulath said. "Are you nearly done here?"

"I'm nearly out of patience. It's probably about the same thing. Why?"

Ulath grinned. "You owe a few kisses elsewhere, too, remember." He uncrossed his mail-clad arms from the fence. "I'm freezing my face off out here. I'll see you inside."

  


*

  


**   
_2\. Courtesy_   
**

"Tynian."

"Hm." He rolled over and opened one eye speculatively. Even though his body stubbornly insisted that it should be the middle of the night, the pale and frozen sun of No-Time hung mockingly overhead, shining insistently even through the canvas of their tent. It had taken many minutes of conversation to explain to Bhlokw the need to erect a tent in which to sleep, particularly given the lack of cold that seemed to go along with No-Time. In truth it wasn't strictly necessary, but the routine did help to provide their minds with the illusion of night time, and moreover, it provided some semblance of privacy from Trollish conversation.

Ulath was propped on his elbows, squinting up at the seams of the tent. Tynian watched him for a moment, waiting for some other conversation to start, but nothing seemed to be forthcoming. Finally he closed his eyes again.

"How old do you think you are?"

Tynian opened his eyes again and blinked. "That one went by a little fast, Ulath."

"We know Aphrael tampers with time. I'd be willing to bet she's done a lot more tampering here and there than she's ever going to admit."

"You might be right on that."

"And now we're wandering about spending weeks of time where there isn't any time." Ulath cocked his head sideways. "I've lost count of how much time I've spent that isn't real time. For all I know I could be a year younger than I think I am by now."

Tynian thought about that for a moment. Between the protestations of his body clock and the sun shining in the middle of the 'night', his head started to ache before he got to the end of it.

"Why don't we just knock off a year each next birthday and leave it at that?" he suggested mildly. Ulath smiled.

"Of course, you know next time you think it's your birthday, it's probably not going to be that day at all. For all you know, it's your birthday right now in real time."

Tynian made a face. "Must you?"

"I think about these things when I'm trying to sleep in the middle of the day."

"It's night, Ulath," he said stubbornly.

"It's only night because we say it's night."

"Next you'll be saying time is an illusion."

"Well, isn't it?"

Tynian groaned. "If I finally agree to come Ogre-hunting with you once this is all over, will you stop talking?"

Ulath chuckled and lay down again. "Ogre-hunting isn't the kind of thing you go into when your heart's not completely in it, Tynian."

"You could always take Bhlokw," he suggested mildly. Ulath snorted.

"I don't think I'm all _that_ eager to stay friendly with the Trolls when this is all done. Besides, I have the worrying feeling he'd invite me to feast with him afterward."

"Troll eating habits aren't really all that bad," Tynian said. "All right, they tend to eat their meat raw, but I've seen a few humans who make a worse mess."

"Trolls eat what they hunt, remember?"

"Oh." He blanched. "Perhaps not, then."

"Winter's a good time," Ulath said. "The snow makes them easier to track. Early in the season, though, otherwise it's too deep to go anywhere. We'd get snowed in."

"Shame," Tynian said mildly.

"Hm."

He looked across the bedroll curiously. "How old are you, anyway?"

"You shouldn't ask those sorts of questions," Ulath pointed out. "Didn't your tutors tell you it's not polite?"

"I know." He grinned. "I get myself into all sorts of trouble. They despaired of me, really."

"Don't we all," Ulath said with some amusement. Tynian chuckled.

"Since you're not going to answer, and we're both agreed we're not going to get much sleep anyway, why don't we pass the time until we're ready to get moving again?"

Ulath grinned back at him and rolled closer. "Why don't we?"

  


*

  


**   
_3\. Virtue_   
**

"It's sin," Bevier said stubbornly.

"Sins are only sins because God disapproves, Bevier." Tynian shrugged. "Aphrael seems perfectly happy with the idea - personally, I'd even suspect her of a little encouragement." He thought about it for a moment. "We're all part-heathen by now anyway, if you get right down to it. Her acceptance probably cancels out our Elene God's disapproval, wouldn't you say?"

"I am a true knight of God," Bevier insisted, shaking his head. "I'm committed to the teachings of our Holy Mother."

"But you love Aphrael, don't you?"

"Of course."

"And you pray to Romalic," Tynian pressed on.

"I offer my requests to Him," Bevier corrected.

"There's not that much difference, Bevier." Tynian said. "Either way, I doubt He would really be all that happy punishing sins of the Elene faith."

Bevier took a long moment to think that through and then sighed. "For some reason I find theology a far more complicated topic than I was once taught," he admitted with a slight smile. "The state of my soul being handled by a trinity of Gods makes me profoundly nervous. I'm not even sure what to consider when it comes to articles of faith on the matter."

Tynian patted him kindly on the shoulder. "Why don't you do some re-reading of our Holy Mother's teachings on understanding our fellow man, my friend? You don't really have to approve of the whole idea, you know. All you have to do is not denounce them both as demons or some such. We both know you love them far too much as friends to do that anyway, so really, is there that much of a problem?"

"_You_ seem to be taking the idea very calmly," Bevier said, narrowing his eyes a little.

"I'm used to it."

"You _knew_?"

Tynian laughed. "Khalad's a worldly enough boy, I'll grant you that, but did you really think Berit could figure it out all on his own?"

Bevier's face went slightly pale and a little bit uncertain. "You haven't... Surely?"

"Well, as Mirtai said once, it's not really that uncommon." He made a private note to not make mention of some of the more debauched stories he'd heard from various knights over the years of tavern evenings. He'd noted over those years that Bevier wasn't by any means alone among his Cyrinic brothers in being quite so devoted to the stricter ideals of their Mother Church, but it probably wouldn't do him that much good to be aware of how many of their other fellow Church Knights tended to bend the teachings in one way or another. "You're a good man, Bevier," he said warmly. "You've just been corrupted by a youth spent in excessive piety, that's all. There's far too much real evil around in the world to start worrying about things that don't really hurt anyone."

"I think perhaps I'll take your advice on the matter," Bevier said. "And I must pray to God for His guidance."

"Just try not to pay too much attention to His ministers, would you? Sometimes I think they enjoy crafting new sins just to keep them in business."

Bevier favoured him with one of those slight smiles that spoke of a vast amusement. "That's almost an accusation of heresy, Tynian."

"I know," he shrugged. "But since those ministers insist I'm already damned, I don't think it matters all that much."

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about," Bevier told him. "Aphrael would intervene for your soul if that should ever become necessary."

"Thanks for the comfort," he said dryly. "Just don't go mentioning any of this extra guidance you're seeking to Berit or Khalad, all right? I really don't think it's necessary to stir things up right now."

"I will be guided by your experience and wisdom on the matter," Bevier said with a short bow and an almost completely straight face.

  


*

  


**   
_4\. Courage_   
**

The royal wedding of the Princess Danae was the event of not only the season or the year, but, it was generally agreed, of the generation in Elenia and most of Western Eosia as well. The Queen and Crown Princess both walked around in a constant craze of organisation with the Prince Consort trailing despairingly and with no little amount of chagrin behind every step. Upon him fell the terrifying duty of interpreting their sudden whims into commands; commands that, between Ehlana's stubbornness, Danae's insistence and Sparhawk's tendency to bull through any obstacle in his path, went out to everyone in the Western kingdoms with no discriminations at all between criminal, patriarch or any in between.

Ulath arrived three weeks after the rest of the visiting three orders - in the rain, naturally - along with Preceptor Komier, and with three score of Genedian Knights at his back.

"Honor guard," he said brusquely, swinging down from his saddle in the Pandion courtyard.

"Her Highness sent word to you as well, I see," Tynian said lightly. "I read the letter she sent to Darrelon. It didn't leave much room for independent decision-making."

Ulath chuckled, handing off his reins to a Pandion novice who looked as if he barely shaved yet. "I think that was the idea." He tapped the young novice on the shoulder. "Make sure you give him a good rub down," he said. "And check his left hoof. He favoured it a little this morning."

"Yes, Sir Knight."

"They get younger every year, don't they," Tynian observed dryly as they walked. "We don't seem to, though." He shook out his sword arm with a wince. "I don't know about you, my friend, but I'm getting too old for this business of riding across the continent every year or so."

"It has its compensations." Ulath kept a straight face. "Who else is here already?"

"You're late," Tynian told him bluntly. "Bevier arrived last week, and Kring and Mirtai rode in a couple of days ago - the Peloi are camped on the other side of the city. Sarathi and his party came with them - I'm told the Heirocracy didn't even put up much of a protest, with six hundred armed Peloi as an escort." He paused, thinking. "Emperor Sarabian himself's expected to arrive sometime this week. Oh, and Vanion and Sephrenia have been here for months, of course."

"How's Dolmant taking that?"

Tynian grinned. "I gather Aphrael spoke to him rather firmly on the subject. She probably had to talk rather fast, but then she's very good at that sort of thing." He paused. "You don't necessarily have to tell her I said that, Ulath."

Ulath grinned back wickedly. "Of course not, my friend." He took off his horned helmet and tucked it under one arm. "Lunch?"

They found the incipient bridegroom in the kitchens, looking slightly pale of face, seated between Vanion and Sparhawk at the end of one long table. Sir Talen, in contrast to his betrothed and mother-in-law-to-be, was currently going through life with a constant air of suppressed terror hanging about him in place of his usually carefree attitude. Tynian was fairly sure that despite Danae's years of open insistence, the newly-Knighted young Pandion hadn't really expected that his marital situation was quite so iron-clad as all that, and from the looks of things, his awakening to the true state of affairs had been fairly recent. Tynian was also sure that he'd get used to the idea - eventually. Probably not until a few years after the wedding, though.

"It's really not all that bad once you get used to it, Talen," Kalten was saying as they took seats across the table. "After all, Danae's very pretty - and remarkably intelligent for a young woman, I've always thought. A credit to your name, Sparhawk."

"Thanks," Sparhawk said dryly.

"Marriage has all sorts of - compensations," Tynian said brightly. Talen looked up at him.

"You would say that." He smiled, although a little wanly, and held out his arm across the table. "Hello, Ulath. You've come to watch them condemn me to my fate, I suppose."

Ulath gripped the younger knight's forearm in greeting. "It seemed only polite," he said. "Everyone else seemed to be invited."

"Half the world, I think." Talen sighed into his mug. "I think the idea is to spread the word as far and wide as possible. I'm already stuck, but once this is over I'll really have nowhere to run."

"Women are very skilled at that," Sparhawk agreed. "Kalten's right, though, it's not really all that bad once you get used to the idea. You might even start to enjoy it after a while - once you give up the idea of ever getting away, that is." He grinned. "Danae is Ehlana's daughter, after all, so I think it's safe to say she's had a lot of training in catching the man she wants. Since I rushed our marriage so that I could get on with killing Azash, I'm afraid you're going to have to go through all the ceremony they can cram in."

"I hate you, Sparhawk," Talen said mournfully.

Tynian poured himself a mug of ale. "Surely you didn't plan to spend your whole life as a bachelor anyway, Talen."

"A few more decades might have been nice," Talen sighed. "Besides, I don't see you or Ulath busy settling down."

Tynian cleared his throat. "Well, some of us just aren't meant to be inflicted on women, Talen."

Talen grinned suddenly. "Oh, don't be coy, Tynian. I know all about you two."

"Really," Ulath said blandly. There was a hint of tightness in his expression when Tynian looked at him, though. Talen shrugged.

"Flute told me."

"That little girl is far too worldly for my liking," Ulath groused.

"You know that little girl is a Goddess, Ulath. Surely she knows anything she wants to know."

"Still, I think I'll have a few words with her the next time I see her." Ulath looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. "We're not going to make a big issue of this, are we, gentlemen? I don't think anyone's ready for Danae finding out."

"Oh, she already knows." Talen's grin, now that he was able to turn the tables for what was probably the first time in months, was positively vicious. "She's going to insist that you attend the wedding together, you know. I tried to talk her out of it for you, but she absolutely won't be swayed." Mischief made his eyes glitter with amusement. "Sorry about that, Sir Knights, but I wouldn't worry. I'm sure it won't be nearly as bad an idea once you get used to it."

  


*

  



End file.
